


The Baker

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bakery, Baking, Dating, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Pouting, Priorities, Selfish Sherlock, Sherlock flirting, Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: A chance trip to a local bakery puts a different sort of case in Sherlock's path, turning his world -- and a local baker's -- upside down.





	1. Murder By The Bakery

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. We've got quite a few stories, and we invite you to get lost in them. **To keep up with our new stories, we hope you'll subscribe.**
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading and for being a great community!

John checked his watch as he quickly moved around the little kitchen cleaning up. He always rushed to clean up, trying to get ready for the rush of people who never came. He did all right--it was mostly people running late and hurrying in for a quick breakfast or coffee. It wasn't often someone came in and sat down just to enjoy his baking. He took a deep breath and smiled at the scent of pastry dough and sweet fruit. He had muffins, bagels, croissants, scones -- all fresh out of the oven and in the display case. He only made a few at a time, ready to bake again should the supply dip down, but that wasn't a usual problem. He unlocked the bakery's door, peering out across the street. There were several police cars and one of them was taping off the area. Something serious must have happened, and while that was a troubling thought, he was also thinking that all of those policemen might have rushed out without breakfast. After turning the sign to open he hurried to start the coffee and boil the water for tea. 

As the minutes ticked by, a few people stopped in for coffee and John found out that there was a body out there, some gruesome murder. He curiously looked out of the window whenever he had a chance, trying to get a glimpse of it himself. He was too far and there were too many of them moving around to give him a good view. He moved behind the counter again, rearranging the food and waiting for more customers. 

Sherlock had done his best examining the body and the scene and then stepped to the side as the coroner arrived and took the victim away. He spoke for a few moments with Lestrade, but then he moved out of the building and into the alleyway, lighting a cigarette as he processed the information. He made a few quick notes, copying down details no one else had noticed and a few starting places for his investigation. Then he threw down his cigarette butt and walked towards the street, striding past the crime scene as if he hadn't even noticed it was there.

He had, however, noticed a bakery across the street and what looked like a coffee machine, which meant he was likely to find a cup of tea there. He went inside and up to the counter, glancing over the pastries in the display case.

John came out of the kitchen and walked over to the counter. "Hi. Can I help you?"

"Cup of tea, please," Sherlock said. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet.

"For here or to go?" 

Sherlock glanced up at the man across from him. For some reason, he quite liked the man's face. "Here, I guess," he said.

John smiled and took out a clean mug. Then he filled a small pot with hot water. "How do you take it?" John asked.

"Just milk," Sherlock said. He tried to clear his mind of the crime scene details and instead said, "So . . . all these pastries . . . are you the baker?"

John looked over at the showcase. "Yeah, I am. Would you like to try something?"

Sherlock liked the way the man smiled at his own creations. "Sure," he said. "What's the best?"

"Hmm. These are my favourite," John said motioning to the fruit tarts. "The dough is very light and flaky, and I use real fruit so they're not too sweet."

"All right," Sherlock said. "I'll take one of those." He took some money from his wallet. "How much?"

John looked at his face for a moment before studying his hair and coat. "Were you across the street? At the crime scene?" he asked.

Sherlock looked up sharply. "Why do you ask?" he said. "You know something about it?"

"What? No! I was just going to say that it's on the house for police," he said. 

"Well, I'm not police but I was at the crime scene," Sherlock said. "I didn't do it, though, if that's what you're thinking." He dropped a fiver into the tip jar.

John looked at the jar and flushed lightly. "I didn't think you did," he said, pushing the tray forward. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Sherlock said, pouring himself some tea and then taking a sip. "Delicious," he said. "So when did you open this shop? Does your wife work here as well?"

John wondered if he would keep standing at the counter but he didn't ask. He didn't want the man to leave just yet. "I'm not married," John said.

"And the answer to the other question?" Sherlock asked.

"It's been five years," John said.

"I see," Sherlock said. "Well, I guess I didn't receive any invitation to your opening or I would have come by earlier." He took another sip of tea. "And may I ask your name?"

"My name is John. John Watson," he said. He licked his lips lightly. "What's yours?"

Just then a few officers came through the door, including Anderson and Donovan. Sherlock stepped to the side to avoid speaking to them. He watched John take their orders and then take their cash, even though it was clear they were police. Just as they were turning around, Sherlock stepped back to the counter, setting his empty cup down. "Thank you," he mouthed to John and then headed out, wrapping a napkin around the pastry and putting it into his pocket.

When he returned to the flat, Mrs Hudson met him at the door. "Where have you been?" she asked.

"A case," he said as he moved to the stairs. "I'm working."

"I thought perhaps you were coming home from a date," she said disappointedly.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "Oh, that reminds me. .." He pulled the pastry from his pocket, checking to make sure it hadn't been crushed. "I brought you this. Real fruit and everything. Not too sweet. Just like me." He smiled and headed up to the flat.

John's stomach had flipped nervously as the other detectives came in and he charged them, but the man didn't say anything about it. He thanked John and left the shop, leaving John to wonder about his name. Well, about him in general. Who was he? If he wasn't police then why was he working on the case? He shook his head and put it out of his mind. He doubted he would ever see the man again. He went back to cleaning and freshening his pots of coffee. When the day was over he closed up, boxed up all of the left over food and put all of the money in the safe. 

John's flat was over the bakery. He ate leftovers from the day before and got ready for bed. It was a productive day. His mind kept wandering to the tall stranger. He had sensed the man might be flirting with him, but perhaps that was just his loneliness speaking. He fell asleep, and he woke up sure that he had dreamt about the man. He couldn't remember but it felt that way. John got up, showered and went down to start his baking for the day.

Sherlock had been up most of the night working, but eventually allowed himself a few hours of sleep. He was down at the lab bright and early though, working on a few theories and requesting some information from Molly. The next few days went quickly -- anyone watching Sherlock would have seen him as a bit of a blur as he moved quickly from place to place, but Sherlock was keenly aware of every moment of his work. This was what he loved doing. 

The days passed slowly for John. His slow stream of customers continued, mostly the police as they finished up and cleaned up the crime scene across the street. Each day, he looked for the handsome stranger but he never came back again. After failing to find anything about him online, John finally gave up and put all of his focus into the shop and himself. He researched and tried new recipes, advertising a different special every day to try to drum up some more customers. He took extra care when making the fruit pastries, and when he made them, the special for the day he found himself annoyingly wishing the man would come in. He still didn't, and John scolded himself for feeling disappointed.


	2. Sherlock Flirts Like There's No Tomorrow

By the end of the week, the case was solved. Sherlock had gone into Lestrade's office to report and was secretly pleased to see Donovan there so she could hear his explanation. She said nothing but Lestrade was suitably impressed, which was good enough for Sherlock. He left feeling suitably impressed as well.

Since he was in such a good mood, he decided to visit the bakery in hopes of seeing the handsome John Watson again. When he saw him behind the counter, he smiled to himself but then turned his face neutral and approached.

John looked up at the sound of the little bell and was embarrassed to hear himself gasp softly. But he didn't want to appear too eager, so he went back to wiping the counter. "Can I help you?"

"Hello," Sherlock said. "Fancy seeing you here."

John tried to fight back a smile. "What can I get for you?"

"I suppose I was seduced back by the pastry," Sherlock said. "I'd like to try another -- you choose. And a cup of tea, of course." 

John took out a tray, putting everything on it like he had last time. This time he picked an almond croissant. "Here you go."

Sherlock glanced up at the board. "Bit pricy," Sherlock said, smiling. He laid the money on the counter. "Am I supposed to sit down or something?"

"If you like," John said. "The corner window is nice."

Sherlock glanced over. "Yes, it looks nice but . . . it does mean I'll have to shout, though, if I want to keep talking to you," Sherlock said. "Which I do."

John swallowed and looked down at the counter, ashamed he'd been stupidly expecting this man to come in every day. He was probably very busy. But at least he was back. "You can stay up here. Or I can sit with you until someone comes in."

"The second, please," Sherlock said and moved to the table. Still smiling.

John double checked that no one was on their way in before coming around the counter and sitting across from him. "I never got your name," he said.

"It's Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221b Baker Street," Sherlock said. "In case you need that information as well."

John tilted his head and smiled. "Well, your name works for now. How's the crime? Are you allowed to talk about it?"

"Only to relevant parties," Sherlock said in a mock serious tone. "Did you know the man?"

"No, I don't know anything about it."

"Are you just the curious type then?"

"I suppose I am," he smiled. 

"Good," Sherlock smiled and took a sip of tea. "I sometimes help the police. That's all I did this time. The man should be arrested tonight." 

"You solved it, then?" He asked.

"I did," Sherlock said. "However, I am entirely unable to bake a fruit tart, so there is no need to be impressed."

"Well, I've got the baking part covered," John smiled.

"Then we're the perfect team," Sherlock said. "I'll solve the crimes, you bake the tarts." He glanced over at John. "So . . . what else do you want to tell me?"

John tilted his head again. "Um, nothing I suppose. Is there something you want to ask me?" 

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Who loves you and do you love them back?"

John was sure he looked even more confused. "What?"

"Sorry, I'll rephrase that," Sherlock said. "Where did you learn to bake?"

John laughed softly. "My mum, honestly. I've had no . . . official training."

"And what else are you good at?" Sherlock asked.

"A lot of things," John said. "I won't ruin the mystery and list them," he smiled.

"So does that mean you're my new case?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because I should clarify that my investigations are usually quick and extremely thorough."

"Well, if it means I'll see more of you then yes, I'll be your new case."

Sherlock smiled. He rarely behaved like this and wondered what precisely was inspiring it this evening -- whether it was purely motivated by John Watson's handsome face or if the success of the case was also playing a role. Regardless, he was quite enjoying it. "The first part of my investigation will be to find out if you are in this bakery 24 hours a day," he said. "Any ideas where I should start on my search for the answer?"

John glanced at the door. "Perhaps the list of hours on the door?" John grinned.

"Yes, I was thinking either that or ring your mother, though the door would probably be the easiest," Sherlock answered back.

"I've changed the hours since my mother had the shop so she wouldn't know," he said. "Are you working cases 24 hours a day?"

"For a case like this," Sherlock said. "I'd happily stay up all night long."

John bit back another smile. "You're very dedicated."

"When I'm motivated," Sherlock said and then looked up quickly. "Oh yes, and now that I think about it, what is my motivation? The police pay me £5000 a case. Should I expect similar compensation if I solve this one?"

"Um...I believe you've already received payment in the form of fruit tarts," John smiled.

"I paid for those!" Sherlock laughed.

"No, you just bought a croissant. I gave you the fruit tart last time and I'll give you another today," he smiled.

"Hmm," Sherlock said as if he were thinking it over. "How about I take the tart as a down payment, and once the case is solved, you can pay me what you think my work is worth?"

John tilted his head as if seriously considering it. "All right."

Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled a small pad of paper and a pen and began scribbling as if he were taking notes. "So as you are not here every moment of the day, could you please list three other places you are likely to be?"

"Um . . . the shop, my flat, and the park."

"The park?" Sherlock asked. "You don't get up to any dubious behaviour there, do you?"

John shrugged. "Perhaps I'm a closet bad boy," he said.

"I see," Sherlock said. "And how about at your flat? Or do you limit your bad behaviour to public spaces only?"

"Am I to solve the case for you?" John teased.

"Fine," Sherlock said and slipped the pad back into his pocket. He made like he was going to get up and leave. "Should I just wait around the men's public toilets or do you prefer to do your business in the bushes?"

"What?"

"You just told me you get up to trouble in the park but would provide no further details," Sherlock said. "I presumed that meant I'd need to see it for myself."

"And you'll wait for me at the public toilet?" John asked.

"That's where most perverts loiter," Sherlock said.

"I'm not a pervert!"

"Shame," Sherlock muttered with a cheeky smile. "All right, let's get back to the interview. Your age, please."

"Thirty-five," he said. "And I think not being a pervert is a good thing."

"What about that closet bad boy image?"

"Bad boy. Sneaking cigarettes and . . . I don't know, riding motorcycles and all that. Not a pervert!"

"Smoking does not make you bad," Sherlock said. "You have a motorbike?"

"No," John admitted.

"Interrogation only works if you're honest," Sherlock said. "Okay, you're not a pervert nor do you ride a motorbike. You don't smoke either, do you?"

John shook his head. "I'm not a bad boy."

"Were you joking or did you think I'd find that . . . interesting?"

"I was joking," he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly now. "Sorry."

"I'm not always good at jokes," Sherlock said. "Sorry." He tipped the rest of his tea in to his mouth. He was conscious that the silence had gone on too long. "Could I get another cup?" he asked, for some reason determined not to give up just yet.

"Yeah, of course," John said, getting up to bring him a new mug. 

Sherlock watched John walk away. He took a few slow breaths and, when John returned, said, "You mentioned your flat. Do you live alone?"

"Yes, right above here, actually." He put the mug down in front of Sherlock before sitting again.

"And why's that?" Sherlock asked. "The living alone part, I mean."

"Because no one lives with me," he said. He smiled. "People live alone all the time."

"I know that," Sherlock said, a tiny bit defensively. "I live alone. But there's a reason for that, and I was just asking what yours was."

"What's your reason?" He asked.

"I don't like people and people don't like me," Sherlock said honestly. "Is that yours as well?"

"Not quite," he said. He licked his lips. "I like you."

"Do you?" Sherlock said. "Why?"

John shrugged. "I like talking to you. You're handsome. You like my tarts," he smiled.

"I do like your tarts," Sherlock said cheekily. "Well, I guess that sorts it then."

"Sorts what?" John asked. 

"You should move in with me," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

John blinked at him. "Sorry?"

Sherlock looked up. "Don't be," he said. He glanced around the place. "So how late are you open here tonight? Would you mind just telling me rather than making me walk to the door?"

"I close at six," John said.

"And after that. . . you'll be going home or heading off to the park for some unspecified reason?"

"I'll be cleaning up and then I'll be going home. Or finding dinner," he added, holding Sherlock's gaze.

"I'm quite good at finding things," Sherlock said.

"Yeah?" John asked.

"I am," Sherlock said. "In fact, I already have an idea where I might be able find your dinner."

John looked up as the bell rang, moving behind the counter to help the two women who walked in. When he finished he came back to the table and sat down. "You were talking about dinner?"

"Indeed," Sherlock said. "You interested?"

"Yes, I am."

"It appears I am as well," Sherlock said. He looked at his watch. "I think I'll head back to my flat for an hour or so. If you close up at six, shall we meet at seven -- will that give you enough time to . . . do whatever it is you need to do?"

"That's enough time. Where are we meeting?" He asked. 

"Do you like Italian?" Sherlock said. He scribbled down an address. "How about here?"

"Italian's my favourite," John smiled. "That's perfect."

"Good," Sherlock said, moving to stand up. "Could I get that fruit tart? I won't eat it now so I won't spoil my appetite."

John got up and picked a different flavoured tart, wrapping it up for Sherlock. "I'm glad you came back."

"I am as well. I wasn't sure why I decided to but I'm glad I did," Sherlock admitted.

John smiled. "I'll see you soon."

Sherlock took the pastry and headed home. He knocked on Mrs Hudson's door, handing her the tart when she answered. "I have a date tonight," he said. "What do you think of that?"

"It's about time," she said. "Come in for a cup of tea and tell me about your plans and what's going on with all these pastries."

"Nothing," he said stepping inside. "They're just a reminder that I can be sweet when I want to be."


	3. The Date

Sherlock headed over to Angelo's a little early. He wasn't even sure why he'd told Mrs Hudson about the date and why he'd allowed her to fuss over him as he did. But he was actually kind of glad he had. When he arrived, he had a quick word with Angelo and then got the table by the window and waited for John's arrival.

John walked to the restaurant, peeking in the window and spotting Sherlock before going inside. "Hi," he smiled, sitting across from him.

"Hello," Sherlock said. "I'm glad you came." He looked over at John's face, which seemed even more handsome. "Everything go okay closing up?"

"Yes," he said. "It's not very difficult."

Angelo came over, setting a candle on the table. "I thought you might like this," he said, showing them a bottle of wine. "Should I open it?"

"Shall we say yes?" Sherlock asked John.

John nodded, smiling a bit wider. "Yes, please."

Sherlock watched as Angelo pour the glasses. Angelo's grin was a little too wide, but Sherlock pretended he didn't notice. He let John order first and then told Angelo he'd like his usual. When he went back into the kitchen, Sherlock lifted a glass and said, "To two solved cases."

John smiled and lifted his glass for the toast. "You seem friendly with him. Do you come here a lot?"

"I suppose I do," Sherlock said. "I actually met him on a case and since then, I use this restaurant as a place to think. And watch." He nodded towards the window. "You can see a lot from here."

John looked out of the window and nodded. "I see. Your work sounds very interesting."

"It is," Sherlock agreed. "Is yours?"

"My bakery? I suppose, but not like solving cases, of course."

"No," Sherlock said. "Probably not. Fair enough, though. I'm sure it's safer."

"Yes, definitely." John sipped his wine. "How long have you been working with the police?"

"About a year," Sherlock said. "Angelo was my first case."

"I see," John said. He sipped more wine. "What do you do for fun?"

"Cases are my main fun, I guess," Sherlock said. "I don't really do . . . fun."

"Hmm, isn't this date fun?" John asked, his tone light and teasing.

"I suppose it is actually," Sherlock said. "This may be the first fun thing I've ever done."

John laughed softly. "Well, I'm glad to be of help."

"Maybe you could help me in other ways," Sherlock said.

John licked his lips. "Care to elaborate?"

"Well, there are probably a lot of 'fun' things I've missed out on," Sherlock explained. "You could show me those." He glanced over and noticed Angelo coming over with the food. He waited and after the food was delivered and Angelo walked away, Sherlock added, "And maybe, if you wanted to see my fun, you could help with a case."

"A case? Really?" John asked. "Would the police let me?" 

"It's none of their business," Sherlock said. "I can just tell you'd be useful as an objective outsider." He looked over at him. "You seem like a sensible sort. Would you agree?"

John nodded. "Yes, I would say so. I would like to help. That would be exciting."

"Probably," Sherlock said. "Possibly dangerous. That okay?"

John considered for a moment. "Yes, that's okay. Even better," he smiled.

Sherlock watched John's face. John wasn't thinking about whether or not he was all right with danger -- he already knew the answer was yes. He was thinking about whether to admit that. Which he had. That felt important to Sherlock even though he wasn't precisely sure why. "And what other fun things might you expose me to?" he asked, setting his fork down and taking a sip of wine.

John watched him for a long moment, taking a sip of wine. "I won't spoil the surprise."

"Will I be experiencing something fun after dinner?" Sherlock asked.

John smirked. "What sort of man do you think I am?" he teased.

"I have a few theories," Sherlock said. "But I'm hoping you might be willing to show me."

John leaned back and smiled wider. "You'll have to wait and see."

"I find that answer both intriguing and satisfying," Sherlock smiled back.

John laughed as he went back to his meal. "Can I expect fun in return?"

"Perhaps you should clarify your definition of fun before I give my answer," Sherlock said.

"You're the detective, you figure it out," he grinned.

"A detective who has never experienced fun," Sherlock said. "Until tonight."

John smiled. "A surprise for both of us."

Sherlock smiled and took another sip of wine. Everything about tonight was surprising to him. Even his own behaviour.

When they finished eating John went back to his wine. "This was delicious."

"Good, I'm glad," Sherlock said. He glanced down at his barely touched plate. "I'm not what you'd call a big eater, but I'm glad to see my trust in Angelo's abilities was justified."

John smiled. "I'm not picky, but I'll agree this was some of the best Italian I've had." 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Do you want coffee? Or is the date over? I guess, I mean what do we do now?"

"No, I'm okay. About the coffee, I mean. Maybe we can go for a walk?"

"Good," Sherlock said, glad the evening wasn't over yet. "Let's go." He waved to Angelo as they got up to go, leaving a tip on the table since he knew they wouldn't be charged.

John got up and followed Sherlock out of the restaurant, hands in his pockets as he walked close to him.

"Any particular place we're headed?" Sherlock said.

"I have something in mind," John said. 

Sherlock smiled over at him. "All right then," he said. "Lead the way."

John took his hand and made the way toward his shop again. Toward his flat. 

Sherlock felt his pulse quicken slightly. This was quite the adventure he'd got himself into and at the moment he was quite enjoying it.

"Would you like to come up?" John asked when they arrived.

"I think I might," Sherlock said. "If that's genuine invitation."

"It is. Of course it is," John said, taking out his key to let them both in.

"All right then," Sherlock said, following John in. He was keen to look around John's place, as if something there might explain why Sherlock felt so interested in him.

"Would you like more wine?" He asked.

"Sure," Sherlock said, scanning the place for clues. He took off his coat and followed John to the kitchen.

John took down two glasses and popped open the wine.

Sherlock looked around again. "This is a nice flat," he said. "Very tidy."

John handed him a glass. "Are you looking for clues?" he asked, taking a sip.

"Possibly," Sherlock said with a sly smile. "Of course, if there's something here you want me to find, you could just point it out." He lifted his glass and then took a drink.

John set his glass down and stepped closer, into Sherlock's personal space. "I think looking for it will be more fun," he suggested quietly.

"Of course, right, fun," Sherlock said. "I forgot about that."

John touched his arm lightly, tracing up and skipping to touch his cheek. "Yes, fun."

"And maybe a bit dangerous?" Sherlock asked, leaning in even closer.

John nodded, closing the space to kiss Sherlock. His lips were soft and tasted lightly of wine. 

Sherlock lifted one hand to John's upper arm, gripping lightly as he kissed John back. Then he opened his eyes and softly said, "Fun."

John nodded, leaning in to kiss him harder. Sherlock stepped even closer and slid his hand down John's arm and around his waist. He kissed back, letting his tongue slip in to find John's. John followed his lead, licking out with a soft hum.

Sherlock stepped back for a second, setting his glass down. "I don't want to spill," he mumbled, quickly moving back so close their bodies pressed together.

"I really want to take you to bed," John murmured between kisses.

"Is that where the dangerous part comes in?" Sherlock smiled as he continued to kiss back.

John smiled softly as they kissed. He pulled away. "Dangerous because I don't want to ruin this," he said softly, pecking the corner of Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock looked down at him. Then he turned and picked up his wine glass again. "Should we sit down?" he asked, going ahead and sitting before John's answer had come.

John moved with him and sat down beside him. "I like you," he announced. 

"I like you, too, John Watson," Sherlock said. "Admittedly, we don't know each other really well . . . so could I just ask, do you think it's just a sexual attraction?" he asked bluntly.

"It could be. If we went into my room right now we could test that theory. And if you're right that it's just attraction, we won't have to see each other again. We'd have had a good evening and that's all it needs to be. But I would like to see you again," he admitted, looking down at his glass.

"I'm not sure I would be satisfied," Sherlock said and then realised it hadn't come out as he'd meant it. "I mean, obviously I do find you attractive, but if you knew me better, you'd know that's not enough of a draw to make me like someone. I said I like you and I do. I'd like to find out why. Which means I would like to see you again as well." He took a sip of wine. "After that, we can revisit the idea of a shag," he added with a smile.

John grinned. "I'm glad we're in agreement."

Sherlock took another sip and glanced around. "So would you say this flat reflects your personality?" he asked.

"Hmm, I don't know. I'm not one for fuss."

"If I stood up and walked over to that desk," Sherlock said, pointing. "Would I find bundles of pornography if I opened the drawer?"

John glanced at the desk. "No, you won't. I keep it on the computer like a civilised person."

"Of course," Sherlock said. "And is this the only bottle of wine in the flat or do you have empties under your bed?"

"It's just this one," he said. "I only keep it around for . . . you know, this sort of thing."

"You do this frequently?" Sherlock said. "This sort of thing?"

John shook his head. "No, not really. It's been a while since my last date."

"I see," Sherlock said. He tipped his head and scratched his chin as if he were carefully considering his next question. He looked over and asked, "How many cakes do you eat over a ten day period? An estimate is fine."

"Like a full cake?" John asked. "None. A pastry while I'm baking? Maybe more than I should."

"Thank you for the information," Sherlock said. "It was useful. Any questions for me?"

John considered for a moment. "What made you come back to the shop?"

"I was in a good mood, quite pleased with myself, if I'm honest," Sherlock said. "I'd enjoyed our short conversation a few days ago and obviously I quite liked looking at your face, so I thought I'd come in to look at it again."

John smiled crookedly. "You're making it difficult to keep my promise of taking this slow."

"I'm just trying to answer your question honestly," Sherlock said. "I can't help it if that's the kind of thing that gets you going," he added with a wink.

"I was hoping you'd return actually," John said. 

"Would you have tried to find me, do you think?" Sherlock said. "If you were that horny -- I mean, charmed."

John pushed him lightly. "I have to confess that I gave up. Assumed that it was just a one time meeting. I didn't even know where to start. I couldn't very well go to the police asking for you."

"Hmm . . . do you ever act on your curiosity, because I should probably clarify I almost always do."

"Rarely," John said. "I don't mean to disappoint."

"Well, I suppose I'd be able to forgive you if you're will to show me an example of your acting on your curiosity," Sherlock said.

"Didn't I already? When I was curious about how soft your lips were?"

Sherlock laughed. "I suppose you did," he said. "Well, how soft were they? On a scale of 1-10, of course."

"I think to be very accurate I should test them one more time."

"I don't see anyone stopping you," Sherlock smiled as he set his glass down.

John smiled as he leaned across and kissed Sherlock, lightly and quickly before pulling away and making a face like he was really thinking about it. "They're soft."

"What number on the scale, please?" Sherlock said. "I like precision."

"Seven. Seven point three."

Sherlock's brown crinkled. "I'm surprised and a bit disappointed. Perhaps I could have one more shot at impressing you?" he said, leaning in and giving John a soft but long kiss. He let his hand slip into John's hair and gently held his head. Then he leaned back and looked over, waiting for John's response.

"I never said I wasn't impressed before," he smiled. "Impressiveness is a 15. Softness, still a 7.3," he said. 

"Harsh," Sherlock said. He leaned back a little and said, "This has been a fun night, John. Thank you."

John smiled. "Yes, I've had a really great time with you."

Sherlock smiled and then stretched a little. "Perhaps we should call it a night? You probably have to get up quite early tomorrow."

John nodded. "Yes, I do start early. When can I see you again?"

"Tomorrow," Sherlock said, standing up.

John stood and nodded. "Well, you know where I'll be," he smiled.

"Can I kiss you goodbye?" Sherlock asked, a bit stupidly.

"Yes, of course," he said, stepping closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and looked down at his face for a moment before leaning in and starting a soft kiss. It quickly became a little hungrier as his hands pressed John's body even closer. Then he pulled back and smiled. "Good night, John Watson," he said softly.

"Good night Sherlock," John said breathlessly. He shut the door and leaned against it before grinning stupidly.

Sherlock began to walk home. He had a smile on his face. He was always so calculated, but a simple urge -- without much analysis -- to go back into that bakery after solving the case had led to something very intriguing indeed. He couldn't help it: he simply found John interesting. And also quite sexy. He smoked a cigarette as he walked and thought about John.

Sherlock was surprised that Mrs Hudson hadn't stopped him in the hallway to quiz him on the date, but all was quiet downstairs. He went up to the flat and made himself a cup of tea, which he drank as he checked his email and smoked another cigarette. He lay down on the sofa and flipped the television to a channel of static, settling into fall asleep to the white noise.


	4. Sherlock Gets Flustered

In the morning, he woke up to a pounding on the door. Mrs Hudson wanted all the details. He didn't give them all away, of course, but it was clear to both of them that he was rather keen on John Watson. Once she'd gone he took a shower and was just about out the door when his phone rang. It was Lestrade with some question -- nothing quite as high profile as the murder from a few days ago, it was basically just research into a potential crime. It was still interesting, though, and Sherlock was pretty pleased to be able to have something to get John involved in right away. He'd seen the way John's eyes lit up at the mention of excitement and danger -- he wanted to share that with John, especially since John had caused a different kind of excitement in Sherlock last night. He grabbed a taxi and headed over to the bakery.

John was just cashing out a woman when he saw Sherlock coming up. He pulled out a special fruit tart. "Hello. I made this for you."

"Thank you," Sherlock said. He wrapped a napkin around it and put it in his pocket. "I've got something very exciting for us to do this afternoon. Come on, get your coat." He smiled eagerly.

"What, now? I can't leave now, Sherlock. The shop is still open."

"What?" Sherlock asked. He glanced around and saw no one there. "Just put a sign on the door -- we'll be back in a few hours."

"I can't do that," John said. "I'm sorry."

"But--" Sherlock started and then thought carefully a moment. "I thought you wanted to do something like this with me."

"I do," John said. "But I can't leave. I have to work. I'm sorry," he said.

Sherlock looked over closely at John, trying to read his face. "Do you really, though?" he asked. "Or was that just something you said last night . . . you know, because we were on a date and all?" He stared intently, watching for a sign.

John's brows creased lightly. "I wasn't lying. But I have responsibilities. I can't just run off," he said.

It seemed like John was being honest, but Sherlock couldn't help but feel disappointed. He heard the bell on the door and glanced over at the customers coming in. "All right," he said. "Well, I should get started. Thanks for the pastry." He touched his pocket. "I'll talk to you later," he added as he headed out.

John watched him leave as long as he could before taking care of the customers who had walked in. Sherlock seemed disappointed, and despite Sherlock's ridiculous plan to simply ditch the store, John felt guilty. Guilty and . . . something else. Disappointment as well. He wanted to go. And now he was feeling upset that he couldn't. Resentful, almost. But that was stupid. This was more than just his job. This was his livelihood. Sherlock needed to understand how important that was.

Sherlock was half way the home before he realised he was supposed to be working on this research. The more he thought about it, most of what he needed was probably online or in one of his notebooks anyway. It was stupid to have been eager to share this with John -- it really wasn't going to be exciting or dangerous at all. 

Mrs Hudson was just coming out as he was coming in. She took one look at his face and said, "All right, let's have a cup of tea and you can tell me about it." She turned and led him into her flat. She put the kettle on and waited for him to speak.

"I don't think he actually likes me," Sherlock said, setting the fruit tart on the table.

"Is that so?" she asked, waiting for him to say more.

"Well . . ."

"Because I think you do think he likes you," she said, pouring the tea. "I think you think that because it's actually true." She brought the cups over to the table and sat down. "I think something happened that you don't like and now you think everything is ruined just because Sherlock Holmes didn't get his way."

Sherlock looked up. "That's kind of a cruel thing to say," he said, lifting the mug to his face for a drink.

"You know it wasn't meant in a cruel way," she said softly. She looked over at him. "I notice you didn't deny it. . ."

Sherlock looked over around the room, at anything but her. "Maybe that's what's occurred . . ." he said under his breath. 

"What happened?" she asked.

"I wanted to spend the day with him, but he couldn't be bothered," Sherlock said, looking over at her now.

"Is that a factually accurate statement?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "Well, no. He said he wanted to but he refused to." He took a sip of tea. "But he would have, if he really wanted to."

"And what excuse did he give you?"

"He said he had stay at work," Sherlock said as if it were utterly unreasonable.

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson said. "You said the man runs that business. Of course, he couldn't just up and leave when he wants to."

"I run a business, don't forget," Sherlock said. "Yet I'd be willing to up and leave to go do something fun." He kept the last part quiet, still not totally comfortable with fun being a part of his life.

"You little liar," Mrs Hudson smiled. "When you are in the middle of a case, you're not willing to do anything except work -- you don't eat, you don't sleep, you don't even say good morning to me. You would never stop a case for a date!"

"But I --" Sherlock started but he couldn't really answer back. She was right. His expectation was unrealistic and unfair. He looked down at his tea. "I still don't think he likes me very much," he said and then when he noticed Mrs Hudson about to interrupt him, he added, "I mean, I think I might like him too much."

She took a long sip of tea and then reached over to touch his hand lightly. "I don't think that's the case at all," she said. "I think maybe you've just forgotten what all this actually feels like. How long has it been?" She paused but didn't force him to answer. "It all just feels new, and you're not always good with the new, are you? Let yourself want to see him, let yourself enjoy that. Sometimes you'll be able to, sometimes you won't. Don't worry -- deep deep down you're a sensible person, even though you do your best to hide it sometimes. Trust your brain but trust your heart as well." She pinched his hand lightly and sat back, adding, "Or whatever part of your body it is that's urging you to see him." She smiled cheekily.

"You are outrageously vulgar sometimes, Mrs Hudson," he said, smiling back. He finished his tea and stood up. "I have some research to do and then perhaps I will spend some time with John Watson." He turned to leave and quietly added, "Thank you."

Upstairs he smoked a cigarette while he waited for the kettle to boil. He set up his desk, grabbing some notebooks and opening his laptop. But before he sat down to work, he got out his phone and rang the bakery. When John answered, Sherlock said, "I would like to place an order."

John had a decent rush of customers for the next hour after Sherlock left. He was glad for it, to keep his mind off of their conversation. The line was dying down when he heard the phone. "An order? Sure, just a second," he said, putting the caller on hold. He finished up with the customer at the front, found a pen and paper, and went back to the phone. "Okay, sorry about that. Go ahead."

Sherlock took a quick breath and then said, "I'm a big fan of your fruit tarts, but this time I'd like something a little more fun and exciting. Perhaps the baker himself would be available this evening?"

"Oh -- I'm sorry, I'm . . ." John paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sort of seeing someone, I think.".

"What?" Sherlock said. "It's me, Sherlock. Are you seeing someone, John? Are you?" His heart seemed to be beating much more loudly than it had been one minute ago.

"What? Sherlock?" John said, a bit confused. "I meant you," he said. "I'm -- I'm seeing you, aren't I?" he said uncertainly. 

Sherlock made a little cough, realising now what was happening. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry, I didn't realise and sorry for behaving the way I did earlier. I was trying to be funny, I guess. . . I was calling to ask if I could see you tonight."

"I would really like that," John said. 

"I should say the case wasn't really a case after all, so you won't miss much excitement," Sherlock said. "But perhaps you'd like to come round to mine and I could show you what I found. After you're done with your work, I mean."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Want me to bring dinner or anything?" He asked.

Sherlock hadn't thought about food. "No," he said. "I'll sort something here." He glanced at the clock. "What time works for you?"

"I can be there around seven," John said. "Does that work?"

"Perfect," Sherlock said casually. He hung up and went to his door, opening it and shouting "Mrs Hudson!"

She came running up. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"John Watson is coming for dinner at 7 and I told him I'd sort food and I have no idea what I'm doing," he said.

"Sherlock, that's five hours from now," she said. "You've got plenty of time."

"I do not," he said, moving over to his desk "I have to do this research -- I do not have time to take a cookery course and go out shopping."

"You're saying you're not just going to walk away from your work?"

"Of course not," Sherlock said angrily and then turned to look at her. "Oh I see what you're doing there . . . very clever. Well, I'll have you know that I apologised to John for my behaviour earlier so you needn't try to prove your point any further. Instead of trying to hurt me, Mrs Hudson, could you find it somewhere in your heart to help me?"

"By doing what?"

"By making dinner obviously," Sherlock said.

"I'm not your housekeeper!" she said, moving into the kitchen to grab a cloth. "Why did you invite him for dinner if you have no food?" she asked as she began to dust the mantel.

"Because I obviously have no idea what I am doing," Sherlock shouted back as if somehow she were to blame for all this. "Besides John has basically provided you with free pastry a number of times this week, you think you'd be willing to return the favour by making him some food.

"Fine," she said, her voice a little softer. "I'll help you out just this once. But only on the condition that I get to meet him."

Sherlock looked over at her wide grin. "All right fine," he said. "Just don't embarrass me." He turned back to his laptop. "Now I need to get to work."


	5. Sherlock Tries/Lies To Impress

John finished the rest of his day with only a few more customers. He started his clean up a bit early, packaged the leftover food and went up to take a shower. It took him a minute to remember the address, but when he did he hailed a cab and texted Sherlock that he was on his way.

At six thirty Sherlock was busy fussing over Mrs Hudson who was spending as much time shooing him away as she was spending putting the finishing touches on the dinner. He'd finished the research project quite quickly and then tried to tidy up a bit until Mrs Hudson had sent him to his room to get himself ready. When John's text came through, he shouted at Mrs Hudson, "Get out -- he's on his way!"

"Sherlock," she said, turning around to face him. "Settle yourself down. Everything's finished. I'm on my way out but please, love, just relax, all right?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "All right, sorry," he said. He moved into the kitchen, looking round. "Do I need to do anything with all this or what?"

"No," she said. "It's done, just staying warm. As long as you take it out within the hour, it'll be fine. Now put the kettle on and get some tea ready." She touched his arm lightly and then moved to the door. "And figure out how to introduce me to your new man."

Sherlock watched her go and then took another deep breath. Really there was no reason to get so worked up. He turned the kettle on and got out two mugs, waiting for John's arrival.

John admired the building before knocking on the door loudly.

Sherlock went down and let him in, praying that Mrs Hudson wouldn't get there first. "Hello," he said. "Hello, come in." He led John upstairs with no interference at all.

John looked around the flat as he hung his coat. "Your place is . . . not tidy," he smiled.

"Well, it's much tidier than it was when I woke up this morning," Sherlock admitted. He moved to bring the tea in. "Let's sit," he said, setting the cups down and sitting on the sofa. "How was the bakery business today?"

"Busy," he smiled. "You said your case wasn't anything exciting?"

Sherlock looked down. "Yes, I'm afraid I might have made it seem more than it was," he said. "It was really just some research he needed . . . from some work I'd done before." He took a sip of tea. "If I'm honest, I guess I just wanted to impress you a bit."

John smiled. "Well, you already have so don't worry. Maybe I can tag along on the next one. Perhaps there's a murderer that keeps normal business hours," he teased.

"Well hopefully," Sherlock said, taking another drink of tea. He looked over at John. "I was wondering . . . should we have a kiss?"

John nodded, smiling wider. "Yes, I think we should," he said as he moved closer.

Sherlock leaned over and gave John a quick kiss. "Do you still like that?" he asked.

John nodded. "I still like you too," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Again, I'm sorry about the confusion earlier. I didn't mean . . . well, anyway, sorry."

"It's okay. I was sad I couldn't."

Sherlock watched John's face and it seemed he was being honest. "I'm glad you're still interested," he said. "Are you hungry or what?"

"Yes, it smells delicious in here," he said.

"Yes," Sherlock said. He stood up. "It's good." He nodded towards John, encouraging him to follow him to the table.

John followed him. "Wow. This looks great."

"Well, I hope you like it. It's --" Sherlock said. He pulled the dish from the oven and removed the foil. Unfortunately he still couldn't tell quite what Mrs Hudson had made. "It's one of my favourites," he said as he set it down on the table. He got the salad from the fridge and set that done as well before grabbing a bottle of wine and pouring out two glasses.

"It all looks really good, Sherlock."

"I hope you don't judge too harshly," Sherlock said sheepishly. "What with you being an expert and all." He took a too big sip of wine.

"I'm sure it's delicious," he said.

Sherlock took a small bite. It did taste nice and he was so grateful to Mrs Hudson for her help. He relaxed a little. "So as a baker," he said. "What would you say is your favourite way to spend an evening?"

"As a baker? Or as a person in general?" John asked.

"Either way," Sherlock said. "Why? Are the answers different? Answer both ways then," Sherlock said.

"Well, as a baker I would feel obliged to say something about baking," he smiled. "As a person . . .well, I like a quiet night. Maybe a good film or something."

Sherlock nodded and took another bite, which he washed down with some wine. "Perhaps we could watch a film tonight after dinner, if you'd like?" he suggested.

"Okay, sure," he said. "But you're going to pick because I need to learn more about you," he smiled.

"Maybe," Sherlock said. He looked over. "I should probably confess something to you. I never eat like this. I haven't sat down at this table to eat food since I moved in here."

"Really? How come?" John asked. "I mean, are you just busy?"

"Yes, well, no," Sherlock said. "I'm not really all that interested in eating or food, I suppose."

"Hmm, that's interesting," John said. 

"Do you have confessions you need to make to me?" Sherlock asked.

John laughed softly. "Confessions? I think you've been interviewing criminals too much," he teased.

"So you're just one hundred per cent honest with all people at all time? Is that what you're saying?" Sherlock asked.

"I try to be. I don't understand what lying will accomplish," he said.

"Hmm," Sherlock said. "Lying can accomplish a lot in certain circumstances. That's not to say I'm liar by nature, but I have been known to do it, especially during my work. In other aspects of life . . . I suppose on occasion, I may omit the truth, which is not the same as lying, I don't think. But perhaps we should get clear because I wouldn't want you to think you couldn't trust me." He took a sip of wine. "For example, have I given you the impression that I've cooked this dinner for you?"

John looked at all the food. "You didn't?"

"I didn't," Sherlock said. "I never told you that I did -- I said I'd sort something, which I did." He glanced up at John. "Do you feel like I lied to you? Please be honest -- I'd like the information for future reference."

"A little. You knew that's what I believed when I kept complimenting everything," John said. 

"I see," Sherlock said. "Well, obviously I didn't mind your believing I'd cooked this food . . . but I didn't want to actually lie. Which I didn't, don't forget." He poured a little more wine into his glass and then topped up John's as well. "However, now that I am aware of your perspective, I shall take that into consideration." He looked over and gave a sly smile. "Just to put your mind at ease -- I am a detective, my flat is usually quite messy, and I do like you."

"Well, you never led me to believe otherwise on those," he said. "Now who did cook this meal?" 

"My landlady," Sherlock said. 

John smiled. "Well, that's very nice of her. And I do appreciate your setting all of this up."

"Well, I just wanted it to be nice," Sherlock said. "I just wanted to be nice after what happened earlier."

John reached out and touched his hand. "It's okay, Sherlock. Really."

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I trust you. And now I know about the whole omission-is-the-same-as-a-lie thing, you can trust me too." He got up and took his plate to the sink, flicking the kettle on before sitting back down. "There's no dessert or anything, I'm afraid."

"That's all right, I'm very full." John smiled and sipped his wine.

Sherlock cleared the plates away and put the rest of the food into the fridge. He poured the tea and then said, "Should we move over to the sofa?"

"Yes please," he said, standing and moving into the sitting room.

Sherlock sat down on the sofa, allowing enough room for John to sit as near or as far away as he wanted. "Did you want to watch a film?" he asked.

John nodded as he sat close to him. "Sure," he said. 

"In the spirit of honesty, John, I should tell you I own no DVDs and while I'm sure we can find something online, I have not seen a film since my childhood and I didn't really like that one much anyway," Sherlock said. "So you might need to choose."

"We don't have to watch a film. What did you like when you were a child?"

"I suppose I liked mysteries even then," Sherlock said. "Reading them and then trying to drum them up wherever I could find them."

"Hmm, so you've always been interesting," he said.

"Is that interesting?" Sherlock said. "My classmates didn't really think so."

"Well, they don't sound very interesting," he smiled.

Sherlock took a long sip of tea and then set the cup down. "You're very interesting," he said, reaching over and resting his hand on John's leg.

John traced Sherlock's fingers gently. "I feel honored that you think so," he admitted. 

Sherlock leaned in a little closer. "I do think so," he said and kissed John's mouth softly.   
John kissed back, pressing a bit closer but keeping the kiss light. 

Sherlock looked at John. "I want to know you better," he said.

John nodded. "I'd like to know you better as well," he murmured. He looked over Sherlock's face, leaning in to kiss his jawline, biting softly.

"Will you spend the night?" Sherlock asked, surprised the words had actually come out of his mouth.

John nodded in the crook of his neck. 

"I don't want to rush anything," Sherlock said, squeezing John's leg. "We don't have to . . . but how can we get to know each other without spending time together?"

John nodded again. "I have to get up early, to open the shop," he said.

"That's all right," Sherlock said. "We'll set the alarm." He tried to calm himself a little as he realised his whole body felt flushed with anticipation. John nodded before leaning in to kiss Sherlock's mouth again. Sherlock returned the kiss as he slid his arm around John's back. He'd have been happy to go to bed right now, but that was a bit ridiculous. He moved back a little and reached for the remote. "Let's find something to watch," he said as he turned on the telly.

John leaned over on Sherlock's shoulder as they flipped through the channels for something good to watch. Before he knew it he was dozing off, snapping up in embarrassment. 

Sherlock looked over and smiled. "Should we go lie down?" he asked.

John smiled sheepishly. "Okay," he murmured. 

Sherlock sat forward. "Do you need anything before bed? I mean, glass of water or whatever?"

"Um, yes please," he said. "I didn't bring anything -- a tooth brush or a change of clothes," he said. 

"Of course," Sherlock said. He stood up and moved to the kitchen. "I'll take some water in with me and you can use the bathroom first." He pointed toward the bathroom door. "Use whatever you need."

John went into the bathroom and, after swallowing his guilt for snooping, found a toothbrush in the cabinet. He brushed his teeth and went out again, making his own way to the bedroom where he undressed to his pants and undershirt. 

Sherlock had changed into his pajamas and was sitting in the bed. "This isn't very romantic, is it?" he asked, grinning wide.

"It's perfect," John smiled, climbing in beside him.

Sherlock smiled. "It's unusual," he said. "But you are very unusual." He slid down the bed a little. "Do you normally sleep like that . . . or do you wear pajamas at home or perhaps nothing at all?"

"Usually like this. Sometimes nothing if it's too hot."

Sherlock smiled. "I'm picturing that in my head right now, you know," he said cheekily.

John smiled. "Well, maybe soon you won't have to just imagine it," he said.

Sherlock turned his head and, for a moment, considered ripping John's clothes off before crawling on top of him. Instead, he said, "I hope so." He turned off the lamp and moved a little closer to John, curling around him. "This okay?"

John smiled in the dark, nuzzling his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder lightly. "Yeah," he murmured. 

Sherlock closed his eyes and realised he was relaxed -- it was the earliest he'd been in bed for a long time, but he was relaxed and knew he'd sleep. John Watson was continuing to have an unusual effect on him.


	6. Baking

John quickly fell asleep close to Sherlock who was warmed and smelled nice. It took Sherlock a little longer to drift off, but eventually he did.

He fell into a complicated dream which soon featured a horrible noise that scared him a bit. He opened his eyes -- the dream was gone and he realised that the noise was John's alarm. "John," he said, pushing lightly on his shoulder.

"Hmm, I know," he grumbled, turning away from Sherlock to turn off the alarm.

"What am I supposed to do?" Sherlock asked. It seemed ridiculously early to get up.

"Hmm? Nothing," John said. "I have to go start baking and setting up the display. You can keep sleeping and come by later if you like."

Sherlock looked over at John, remembering the conversation from that first night at John's flat. This could be a chance to get to know a part of John's life. Sherlock pushed himself up on his elbows. "Could I come with you? Now, I mean," he asked.

"Mm-hmm. But you might be bored," John admitted as he sat up.

"I'm prepared for that," Sherlock said with a sleepy smile. "But at least then I'll know that, despite your charm, you're boring and that's a good thing to know. However, I'm not expecting to come to that conclusion." He stretched a little and then stood. "I need a quick shower to wake me up -- do you want to take one after me?"

"I will at my flat, that's why I set the alarm a bit early so I'd have time to stop at home first."

"Clever," Sherlock said. He grabbed some clothes and headed into the bathroom. "Put the kettle on, yeah?" he called.

John nodded, putting his clothes on and heading to the kitchen.

Sherlock quickly showered, brushed his teeth and moved into the kitchen. "I can take the tea with me," he said, looking in the cupboard for a cup. "I don't want to make you late."

He grabbed his phone and keys and they headed out. They made their way through the dark to the bakery. Once they got into John's flat, Sherlock said, "Is there anything I should be doing while you shower?" he asked. "Or should I just stand here looking handsome but tired?"

John smiled. "I won't be long. Make yourself at home," he said as he disappeared into the bathroom. He showered quickly, slipping into his room to get dressed before coming out again. "Let's head down," he said.

Sherlock followed John, realising that he felt a bit of nervous anxiety. Obviously he wasn't interested in the inner workings of a bakery, but perhaps because he had never seen one before, he had the sense of being shown a kind of a secret world. Of course, what was most intriguing was that it was John's secret world, and he was letting Sherlock into it.

John turned on the lights and gave Sherlock a quick tour before taking out all of the supplies he would need. "Do you want to help?"

"If you think I can handle it," Sherlock said. "I'm not sure I can, so don't give me anything too difficult to do."

"You can just cut up the fruit for me," he smiled. "Easy enough."

"We'll see," Sherlock said. He glanced over at John. "Can I have an apron like yours?" he asked sweetly.

"Of course," John grinned. He got one for Sherlock before continuing to mix his dough.

"You may enjoy this image, but the details of it must never leave this room," Sherlock said, as he tied the apron around his waist. He moved over to the cutting board and picked up the knife. Before he started working, though, he asked, "How am I supposed to cut these? I don't know if I've cut a piece of fruit before in my life."

"Just little pieces, they'll be baked," John said, kneading the dough now.

"But in triangles or squares or what?" Sherlock asked, suddenly extremely concerned about doing it exactly right. "On those tarts you gave me the fruit looked all . . . pretty. I don't know how to do that."

"It's just pieces, Sherlock, it doesn't matter," John said. He took the cutting board. "I'll do it. Just stand around and look handsome for me," he said. He needed to move quickly to get things ready.

"I'll watch you for a few moments and then I'll pick it up," Sherlock said. "Just because I'm handsome doesn't mean I'm dim." He smiled over at John. "Besides you're the handsome one -- I really fancy you in that apron."

John started cutting the fruit quickly while the ovens warmed up.

"Well, now I'm doing nothing," Sherlock said. "I want to help. Give me something I can handle. Don't you have to spread some flour around or something? That's essentially just spilling and I'm confident I can manage that."

"Not yet," John said. "It's okay. When the croissants come out, you can drizzle the chocolate."

"Drizzling sounds a bit complicated," Sherlock smiled. "Spilling, I can handle."

"It's the same. I believe in you." He started shaping and filling tarts, putting everything into the oven while he started mixing muffin batter.

Sherlock walked around the room a bit, examining equipment and containers. "So this is the sort of thing you do every morning?" he asked, still inspecting things.

"Every morning," John confirmed. He put the muffins in the oven and took out the croissants. "You can drizzle half of this pan."

Sherlock leaned closer and touched the pan, quickly pulling back his hand. "Great, now I'm injured -- I hope you have insurance," he said, showing John his burned finger. "All right, let me concentrate now," he said, before adding, "Could you quickly clarify the distinction between drizzle and spill?"

John tried not to show his exasperation as he put down the scones he was working on. He drizzled the first croissant. "It's easy," he said, hurrying back to get the tray in the oven.

Sherlock watched John move and realised he wasn't finding Sherlock's behaviour all that amusing. He thought about the countless times he'd snapped at Mrs Hudson when she interrupted his work with what seemed like pointless questions. This was John's work-- he should respect it. He turned and began copying what John had done to the first croissant.

John glanced over and smiled softly. "You're a pro," he said as he put the last tray in the oven.

"Well, obviously not," he said, waving his sore finger. "But I'm learning from one so perhaps maybe eventually." He returned John's smile.

John smiled and started cleaning up a bit.

Sherlock finished the pan and then turned to John. "There's chocolate left but I've finished all these," he said. "What next?"

John relaxed a little. "Well, we just have to wait for everything to come out," he said. He took the bottle of chocolate from Sherlock and looked over his messy hands. He bit his lip and moved closer to Sherlock, licking his finger and sucking lightly while holding his gaze.

Sherlock watched John's mouth. "I thought we were supposed to be working, John Watson," he said quietly as he moved a little closer. John looked up and moved to Sherlock's middle finger, doing the same thing. Sherlock wasn't quite sure what to do -- it felt good what John was doing and he didn't want to stop. But it was also ridiculously early in the morning and he was supposed to be helping -- or at least not hindering -- John's work. "I think you might be driving me a little insane," he said quietly as he lifted his other hand and gripped John's hip

John pulled off of his finger, leaning up to kiss his mouth hard. Sherlock swiftly moved closer, wrapping his arms around John's waist and deepening the kiss. John walked them back until Sherlock was pressed against the wall, John in turn pressed again him. 

"John," Sherlock mumbled. "We're going to make a mess of things . . ." His hand was in John's hair and for a second he worried if he was spreading remnants of chocolate through the blond strands.

"It's fine," John breathed, dipping to kiss and bite at Sherlock's neck. He pressed closer, his body craving more.

Sherlock let his head fall against the wall, loving the feeling of John's mouth on his neck. A small groan escaped from his throat. "It's . . ." he started but didn't finish. The only word he could think of was good, but it didn't seem to do the pleasure justice.

John rolled his hips again, but at that moment the timer on the oven sounded. John groaned and buried his head in Sherlock's neck. 

Sherlock made a small laugh. "Yes, you and your baking are definitely going to make me insane," he said. He stepped aside a little to collect himself.

"To be continued," John said as he fixed his clothes a bit and got everything else out of the ovens. It only took a few minutes more to arrange it all in the display. "I'm going to flip the sign to open," he told Sherlock.

"All right," Sherlock said, taking off his apron. He yawned and stretched. "Will you charge me if I ask for a cup of tea?"

"Of course not," he smiled. "Come on around to the front, I'll make it for you."

Sherlock followed John around, standing stupidly around him as he prepared the tea. "When do customers start coming in?" he asked. 

John flushed lightly. "It depends," he said. "It's usually . . . well, I'm not usually too busy."

Sherlock smiled as John handed him a mug of tea. "Well, I'm impressed," he said. "You obviously know your business and have your timing down to a tee. An excellent quality in a man."

Before John could answer, one customer came in and John helped her quickly. 

When John returned, Sherlock set his empty mug down. "Um, are we going to see each other later?" he asked, adding, "I want to."

"I want to as well," he said. "Your place or mine?"

"Mine. To stay the night?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "I'll text you later."

Sherlock grabbed his coat and then headed home. He made himself another cup of tea, taking it into the bedroom with him, but as soon as he got on the bed, he quickly fell asleep.


	7. Sexy Time

John kept busy the rest of the day, since Friday mornings tending to be his busiest times of the week. At the end of the day he went up to shower, texted Sherlock that he was on his way, and stopped to pick up a bottle of wine.

Strangely Sherlock slept until late afternoon and then got up and sifted through his email. There were a few potential clients so he hoped his replies would bring him some work. He tried to do a little cleaning, though it didn't go quite as successfully as he'd hoped. He'd just got out of the shower and dressed when he received John's text so he stood by the window, watching eagerly for him to arrive.

When he did, Sherlock went down to let him in. He set the bottle of wine on the table and served them tea instead. He asked how John's day had gone -- asking especially if the croissants had sold and was pleased to find they had. Once they were comfortable, he said, "I had an interesting dream once I'd gone back to sleep."

"Oh yeah?" John asked, facing him better.

Sherlock nodded. "You were in it. We were old men," he said. "What do you think that means?"

John considered the dream. "Hmm, I would think that means we've been together a long time, in your dream."

"Not very sexy, is it?" Sherlock smiled.

"In a way," John countered, taking another sip.

"I think it means we're supposed to be together," Sherlock said.

John took a sip of tea. "I could see that," he said.

"Could you? Honestly?" Sherlock said. "We've not known each other very long. . ."

"No, but the first day you came to the shop, I couldn't stop thinking about you. There's a reason for that," he said.

"It's the first time something like this has happened to me," Sherlock said, moving over nearer John. "That must mean something."

"It's a strong pull," John said, putting his mug down and scooting closer.

"It is," Sherlock said softly. He leaned in and moved his mouth to John's. "I'd like to take you into the bedroom now," he said, nipping at John's bottom lip. "But I should probably feed you first," he added with a smile.

"M'not hungry just now," John said, closing the space for a proper kiss.

Sherlock pushed closer, pressing their bodies together as he began kissing John roughly. He moved a hand to John's thigh. John looped his arms around Sherlock's neck, licking into his mouth to deepen the kiss. Sherlock made a small moan deep in his throat as he lifted himself and leaned in, pressing John back flat against the sofa.

John lay back easily. "Can we go to your room?" he asked breathlessly.

"Please," Sherlock said, smiling as he shifted back and pulled on John's hand.

Sherlock stopped them both near the bed and slowly lifted his hands to John's cheeks. He tipped his head slightly and then leaned in for a long and passionate kiss, a mix of tenderness and urgency. John indulged in the kiss before his hands moved to open the buttons on Sherlock's shirt. Sherlock exhaled slowly as John began to undress him. He hadn't done this in a while and he did feel a flush of nerves that was only adding to the excitement he also felt. He rested his hands on John's shoulders, as he trailed his mouth to nuzzle John's ear.

John moaned softly, pushing his shirt off and starting on his trousers. 

"God," Sherlock moaned quietly in anticipation.

When John pushed Sherlock's trousers down, he went too, kneeling in front of Sherlock and gazing up at him as he palmed his cock.

"John," Sherlock mumbled, looking down at him. "Please. . ."

John mouthed at Sherlock's cock through his pants as he tugged them down. A small moan slipped out of John as he licked a long stripe up the shaft.

"Jesus," Sherlock said more loudly than he'd expected to. He lifted one of his hands to his face and then ran it through his hair. He took a deep breath and looked down again. "God, that's good," he mumbled.

John took Sherlock into his mouth, bobbing his head slowly, tasting every inch of him.

Sherlock rested his hands on the sides of John's head, letting them move with John's movement. Soon he could almost take no more. "John," he said, pulling lightly. "Let's lie down."

John pulled off and nodded, standing up again and kissing him softly. Sherlock started to slowly undress John, lifting his jumper over his head and then taking his time removing his shirt. He undid the button and zip of John's trousers before stepping out of his own as John did the same. Then they both moved to the bed, with Sherlock lying to John's side. He ran his hand up and down John's body before stopping at his cock and starting a slow stroke as he kissed his mouth.

Then Sherlock shifted himself, moving down John's body and began kissing his belly and thighs. He swirled his tongue around the head of John's cock, slowly teasing it, before sliding his mouth over it.

"Fuck," John moaned, lacing his fingers into Sherlock's curls. His mouth felt perfect, amazing.

Sherlock felt himself rock against the bed as he continued to suck John's cock. He let his hands explore the place between John's thighs, holding his balls and letting his fingertips brush over his hole. Then he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moving his hand back to between John's leg,. He pulled off of John's cock and covered his thighs with kisses before letting his tongue explore more, making John's warm skin wet.

"Sherlock . . . please," John moaned. "I want you."

Sherlock lifted his head and looked up at John. His lips curled into a smile before he kissed John's belly once more, and then pushed himself up from the bed. He shifted to reach the drawer of the bedside cabinet and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. "I want you, too, John," he said, leaning over and kissing his mouth hard before moving back down the bed. He dribbled some lube into his hand and pumped John's cock a few times before letting his fingers move down. He slowly pushed one inside John, watching his face as he did.

John's eyes fluttered shut in pleasure as he bit his own lip. "Sherlock . . ." he moaned.

"You're gorgeous," Sherlock mumbled as his eyes moved from John's face to his own hand and back again. "And very, very sexy."

John opened his eyes and gazed up at Sherlock. "You are," he said lamely. 

Sherlock kept his hand moving, stretching John, but he reached down and put another kiss on John's belly. "Ready?" he asked softly.

John nodded desperately. "Yes, Sherlock, since I met you," he rambled, flushing lightly bit holding his gaze.

Sherlock smiled and reached over for a condom. He rolled it on and then leaned over John's body, kissing his mouth hard. He reached down to line himself up and slowly pushed in. "God," he moaned as John's body squeezed around him.

John moaned as he was filled, arching into Sherlock's body, into the movement. "Yes..." he mumble, closing the space to kiss Sherlock hard.

Sherlock began a slow rhythm, gazing down at John and kissing him again as his body began to rock. John squirmed and shifted under Sherlock, moving his body with Sherlock as they kissed. He moaned softly and laced his fingers into his hair again.

Sherlock slipped an arm under John's back, pulling their bodies together. "It feels good . . ." he said in a mumbled moan. John moved one hand between them and stroked himself in time with Sherlock's movements. 

"Please," Sherlock huffed as his hips moved faster, pumping harder into John.

John tried to nod his head as he felt the tension building in his body.

"God," Sherlock called loudly as he came hard, his breath stopping for a moment.

John gasped before calling out as he came, arching up into Sherlock with his name on John's lips. Sherlock dropped his mouth to John's, kissing him roughly. He looked at John and smiled before pushing up and shifting to his side. 

John was panting heavily as he looked over at Sherlock.

"I very much enjoyed that," Sherlock said a bit stupidly and then laughed a little. "I . . . well, I don't know what to say." He lifted his hand and fiddled with John's hair a little.

"Me too," John said. "It was very good," he added with a smile.

"It was," Sherlock said. "I'd like to do it again -- not immediately obviously, but I . . ." He stopped because he wasn't quite sure what he was trying to say. Instead, he leaned in close and kissed John's mouth. "You'll stay, right?"

John nodded. "Yes, I would like that. Staying . . . and doing it again," he said.

Sherlock gazed at John for a moment. "There's something here, John," he said softly.

John nodded. "I know there is, Sherlock," he said.


	8. More Sexy Time

Sherlock smiled. He lay flat on the bed again and stretched his legs out. "We'll get up in a few moments, yeah?" he said. "You've worn me out." He closed his eyes and listen to the sound of their breathing.

"Maybe we can take a short nap?" John asked, yawning lightly.

Sherlock nodded. He didn't really sleep but he did feel his body relaxing in a way it hadn't done in a very long time. Eventually he realised he needed the toilet. He tried to shift away gently but then John opened his eyes. "Hello, I'm going to the toilet," he said. "Remember?"

"Remember what?" John asked, looking over at him.

"What we did earlier," Sherlock said, with a silly smile.

John grinned. "I won't forget it," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said, nipping to the bathroom and then returning with two glasses of water. He handed one to John as he sat back down on the bed. "What should we do now?"

John sat up and took a long drink of water. "I'm not sure. Are you hungry or anything?"

"By now I imagine you know the answer to that question," Sherlock said with a smile. "But I imagine you are." He glanced at the clock. "Is it too late? Do you have to leave at the same time in the morning?"

John smiled. "Only a little. But no, I don't open on the weekends."

"So we don't need to get up and go out at four?" Sherlock asked. "We can get you some food and open the wine and go to sleep at whatever time we'd like?"

"Yes, that's true," John said. He smiled and finished his water.

"Good," Sherlock said. "I think I need a quick shower, and then we can go get some food, if you'd like." He stood up and reached for his clothes. Sherlock hurried through his shower, though he did take a moment to think about just how unusual this was. John was here in the flat, and Sherlock realised he'd be happy if John just stayed there for good. This was not something Sherlock had ever felt about anyone else. He stepped out, dried off and got dressed. He found John still lying in his bed.

John sat up and smiled at him. "I'm typically lazy after sex," he grinned.

"Fair enough -- this time, at least," Sherlock said. "But get up now so we can go out. Otherwise, I've got dressed for nothing." He scooped up John's clothes and tossed them to him.

Sherlock pulled the blankets back over the bed and put the bottle and condom box back in the drawer. The room smelled of sex actually. His mouth curved into a sly smile as he moved to the sitting room to wait for John.

John came out a few minutes later and touched Sherlock's head. "I'm ready."

"What kind of food do you want?" Sherlock asked. "Something that'll give you a little energy for later," he added cheekily.

John grinned. "Some carbs, then. Hmm, Chinese?"

"That works," Sherlock said. "Should we pick it up and bring it back here?"

"Yeah, I think a walk will be good," he said.

They headed out. Sherlock lit a cigarette as they walked, but tried to keep the smoke away from John. "So how do you normally spend your Friday nights then?" he asked.

"Sometimes I go out with old friends, usually I'm home," he said. 

"Hmmm," Sherlock said because he didn't really know what to say about that. Sherlock didn't go out with friends, he didn't really have them. He threw his cigarette down. "Should we hold hands? I'd like to, I think," he said.

"Okay," he smiled. He took Sherlock's hand and laced their fingers.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand and led them to the Chinese, letting John order first and then getting some fried rice. He paid and they walked back. Sherlock poured the wine as John served up the food.

"Can we eat on the sofa?" John asked.

"Sure," Sherlock said. He grabbed some silverware and then carried the wine in. He sat down on the sofa, taking his plate from John when he came in. 

John sat close to him. "What would you normally be doing?" he asked.

"If I had a case, I'd be working," Sherlock said. "If I didn't, I'd be . . . working on something else, I guess. Experiments or reading . . . that kind of thing."

"Hmm. Am I putting you out, my being here?"

"What?" Sherlock said. "No, of course not." He took a sip of wine. "I quite like having you here actually."

"Okay, good." John smiled. "That's good, because I like being here. With you, I mean."

"It's a shame your place is so close to the bakery . . ." Sherlock mumbled.

"How come?" John asked.

"I just mean, well, I've got the spare room up there and all," he said, motioning towards the steps. "There's a lot of space here." He put some food into his mouth so he wouldn't keep talking. He was pretty sure he'd just invited John to move in or at the very least implied he'd wished John would move in. This was very unlike Sherlock, but he also knew that it was what he'd really like to happen.

John blinked into his plate before slowly raising his gaze to the steps. "And you want . . . I mean . . . you're offering me that space?" 

Sherlock shifted on the sofa. He wasn't sure if he'd ruined things with the comment. "I'm just mentioning it exists," he said. "I'm sure it'll continue to exist until a later date as well. The room exists and if -- one day -- it was yours, I don't think I'd mind." He took another sip of wine. "Is all what I'm saying."

John bit his lip and nodded. "Okay, that's good," he murmured. "I'll keep that in mind." He offered Sherlock a smile.

Sherlock returned it. "Your food all right? I'm not really an expert on if food tastes good -- I mainly choose that place because it's so close."

"It is really good," John said. "I feel energized," he grinned.

Sherlock smiled cheekily and then his face went a bit more serious. "I don't . . . do this very often," he confessed. "I mean, I rarely do this. I'm pretty sure I remembered how to do everything correctly earlier -- if I didn't, let me know -- but I don't want you to think I bring people back here all the time." He took a drink. "Or mention that room to them. I don't know what it is . . . you're just different, I guess."

"I can tell," John said. He touched Sherlock's hand. "I can tell this is different for you -- it is for me too. It's good, it's okay."

"It is," Sherlock said. He set down his plate and then took it to the kitchen, switching on the kettle. "Do you want some biscuits with your tea?" he asked, opening cupboard doors. "I think I might have some."

"No, I feel full from dinner. Thanks though," John said.

Sherlock brought in the tea. Then he returned for the bottle of wine, setting it next to his almost empty glass. "Thanks for bringing the wine," he said. "You're quite thoughtful about details like that."

John smiled. "Well, I like you a lot so I'm trying," he said.

"Well, you already know I'm smitten -- does that mean you'll reveal your true self to be a right bastard?" Sherlock asked. He moved a little closer to John on the sofa.

"No," John laughed. He shifted towards Sherlock. "I've been honest with you."

"I'm trying to be with you, John." Sherlock said. He looked over as he lifted a hand to John's shoulder, pulling him close. He kissed his mouth roughly as he dropped a hand to his thigh.  
John moaned softly as he kissed back, putting his arm around Sherlock's neck and tugging his hair.

They continued kissing. Sherlock lifted one of John's thighs over his own legs. "I want to . . . be even closer," he said, squeezing John's inner thigh.

"That's a bit cheeky," John asked, smiling up at him and tugging at his trousers.

"Here or in the bedroom?" Sherlock said as he began to open John's trousers.

"Here," John said, lifting his hips before pushing Sherlock's down to his thighs.

Sherlock smiled as he leaned in, biting and pulling on John's bottom lip. He reached his hand around John's stiffening cock, just holding for a few months before beginning a slow stroke.

"Love your hands," John breathed, pressing his forehead to Sherlock's as he steadied his breathing.

Sherlock could feel his whole body warming, his heart pounding in his chest. "I want to make you call out my name . . . I want you to want this all the time. . . to never want to leave," he said, his voice a low growl.

Every nerve in John's body heated. "Then make me shout," he countered.

Sherlock moved his mouth back to John's neck, biting and sucking as his hand increased its speed. "I want to make you come right now," he hissed. "Right here in my hand and then again and again."

John shivered and clutched at Sherlock. "Yes," he moaned.

"Fuck," Sherlock exhaled. "Show me, John. . ."

John shifted under Sherlock, moaning his name as his orgasm built in his lower belly, his stomach twitching with it. Sherlock moved even closer. He was aching just watching John's body's reactions. John leaned up and kissed him hard, coming into his hand. He pulled away to call out Sherlock's name, just like he wanted. 

"Fuck," Sherlock said. "That was beautiful." He was practically on top of John at this point. He leaned in and kissed his mouth roughly and then pulled back, grabbing at his hand. "Come on, I need to . . . soon and I've not got anything in here."

Sherlock pushed open his bedroom, turning and grabbing John, giving him a long, rough kiss. "Get all your clothes off," he said as he stepped back and started taking off his own.

John pulled his shirt off, keeping his eyes on Sherlock the whole time.

Sherlock was watching John watch him. As soon as his clothes were off, he began slowly stroking himself and he scrambled to get the lube and condoms. "Get on the bed," he told John.

"But I'm so enjoying watching you touch yourself," John smiled, getting up onto the bed. "Of course I will enjoying touching you even more."

Sherlock dropped onto the bed. "Show me," he said, running his hand up and down John's bare back.

John wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's cock, stroking slowly. "I was right," he murmured. 

"About what?" Sherlock said, leaning back and exhaling slowly.

"That I would enjoy touching you," he said, sweeping his thumb over the tip.

"Mmmm," Sherlock said, closing his eyes. "You're good at that." He reached down and squeezed John's shoulder.

John nodded, moving his hand faster. "Are you going to come like this?" he asked.

"God," Sherlock said, running a hand through his hair. "Is that what you want?"

"I want you inside me," John admitted.

Sherlock pushed himself away from the pillow. "Come on then," he said, shifting John. "I want you."

John flipped onto his stomach and raised his hips up to meet Sherlock. "Sherlock," he moaned, gripping the sheets.

Sherlock spilled some lube over John, rubbing his hand over John's hole, reaching down to cover his balls and cock. He leaned over and put kisses over John's back as he stroked a few times, pressing himself against John, beginning to rock them on the bed. Then Sherlock slipped two fingers inside John, pumping them lightly but steadily. 

John pressed back against Sherlock's invasion, lowering his head down so his face was buried into the pillow as he moaned.

Sherlock slipped a condom on and pressed his tip against John. "I want to feel you around me," he said quietly as he pushed into John. He began to rock his hips, building slowly, before thrusting against him.

John squeezed around Sherlock, moaning his name again and again. It felt incredible.

Sherlock gripped John's hips, pulling him back to meet each thrust. "I can't believe how good . . ." he mumbled.

John nodded. He dropped down again, stroking himself in time with Sherlock.

"Can you come again?" Sherlock huffed. "I'm so close . . ."

"Yes . . .God yes," John moaned. 

"John," Sherlock called out loudly, crashing into him as he came. His body shuddered and then froze for a moment, until he could breathe and move again. He dropped down and kissed John's back. "Please . . ." he mumbled.

John came instantly, squeezing around Sherlock again and moaning his name. When they slumped on the bed, John panted softly. "God, I'm glad I met you," he said.

Sherlock shifted, getting rid of the condom, and then slid his body around John. "I am as well," he said.

John smiled and draped his arm over Sherlock. "Thanks for coming back again."

"Thanks for making me want to," Sherlock replies and then looked over. "Or was that some kind of sex joke?" 

John grinned. "It wasn't a sex joke," he confirmed.

"Well, thanks for the other kind of coming as well," Sherlock said.

John leaned in and kissed him. "We're good together," he smiled.

"We are," Sherlock said. He relaxed a little and lay back against the pillow. "What time do you have to leave tomorrow?"

"Whenever I want, I don't have to open," he smiled. He curled closer and closer his eyes.

"Perhaps we could do something together," Sherlock suggested. "I mean, not in bed -- well, that as well, but perhaps something out of the bed as well?"

John smiled. "Yes, we should. I've not been to the art museum in a while, do you want to go?"

Sherlock nodded. "Sounds good," he said sleepily.

John hummed softly and let himself to drift to sleep.

Before Sherlock fell asleep, he got up and turned off the light in the other room, stopping at the bathroom. When he came back in and saw John dozing on the bed, he smiled. It felt quite normal in a strange way. He got back in and snuggled close, listening to John's breath until he drifted off.


	9. Work

It was nice waking up to no alarm. John blinked his eyes open and smiled when he saw Sherlock sleeping bedside him. He took the few minutes to study him -- he was so handsome.

Sherlock opened his eyes and saw John staring at him. "What's wrong?" he asked, as he pulled the covers close around him.

"Nothing. You're just really handsome," he smiled.

"Well, stop staring and let me sleep," Sherlock said, turning over once or twice to get comfortable again. He lay quietly for a moment and then rolled over and faced John. "Well, now I need the toilet," he said and pushed himself up. "I'll start some tea," he said.

"Don't be cross -- I was only admiring you!"

"Whatever," Sherlock said, giving him a smile. He wrapped himself up in his dressing gown and quickly used the toilet. He clicked on the kettle and then checked his email while he waited for it to boil. There was an email from Lestrade who wanted to see him as soon as possible. Sherlock ignored the kettle and rushed back into the bedroom. "Get up," he told John. "We need to go to Scotland Yard."

John pushed himself up. "What? Why?" he asked. 

"I've got work," Sherlock said, a little impatiently as he started to get dressed.

"Work," John said dejectedly. So no museum date. "Okay. I'll get dressed and see you later then."

Sherlock stopped and looked over. "I thought you would join me," he said softly. "You don't have to . . ."

John looked up at his eyes. "Oh, yeah," he said. "Yeah, if the police don't mind."

"That doesn't matter," Sherlock said, continuing to get dressed. "Hurry up, though," he said. "We can pick up something to eat on the way if you want."

John got out of bed and dressed quickly. "That'd be good if we have time."

"Of course," Sherlock said. They finished getting ready and headed out, swinging by a nearby bakery before he got them a taxi to the Yard. "I'm sure the pastry's inferior, but I hope it'll do," he said, as the car moved through the city.

"It's fine, really," John said. 

"Not as good as yours, I'm sure," Sherlock said. He drained the cup of tea he'd bought as they pulled up. "Come on," he said. "I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to say, but just agree with it, yeah?"

John nodded. "Okay. You're the boss."

They headed inside, Sherlock leading John straight to Lestrade's office.

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked.

"John Watson," Sherlock said, quickly adding, "What do you need from us?"

Lestrade looked over at John, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock's use of the word us. "Um," he said, looking down at his desk and grabbing a piece of paper. "Know anything about this?" he asked as he handed it to Sherlock.

Sherlock skimmed it over, recognising the symptoms of poisoning. "Who is Stephen Willis?" he asked, reading the man's name from the top of the sheet.

"That's not his real name," Lestrade said. "I'm not sure you need to know the details. I'm also sure your brother could tell you if you do feel you need them."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "I don't care anyway. I assume you must know who poisoned him or do you want me to work on that without even knowing the man's name?" he asked.

"We know," Lestrade said. "It's not technically our case, but your brother suggested we get confirmation before we hand it over. I'll need a little more than verbal confirmation -- can you write something up for me?"

"Fine," Sherlock said again. "But this is barely work. I do this as a favour for you, you know -- one would think you'd make better use of my talents."

Lestrade looked over at John. "Is he like this outside of work as well?" he joked.

John smiled and didn't reply. He looked at Sherlock and smiled wider. "So no crime scene?" he asked. 

"Apparently not," Sherlock said. He turned to leave. "I'll get you something this afternoon," he said and then nodded for John to follow him out.

In the hallway, he said, "Sorry that was a total bust."

John shrugged. "That's okay. We should be glad no one had been murdered," he said. 

"Well, at least someone got poisoned," Sherlock mumbled.

John half smiled and pushed Sherlock's arm lightly. "Well, maybe next time, hmm?" 

"Hopefully," Sherlock said. His mind was already focused on what he was going to write. "Come on," he said. "Let's go home so I can started on this thing."

"Right," he said, motioning for Sherlock to lead the way. 

Sherlock rushed them home, asking John to make some tea as he moved straight to his desk to open his laptop.

John stood at the door and watched Sherlock, lost in a whirlwind of work. He took off his coat and moved into the kitchen to start the kettle, grumbling under his breath.

Sherlock didn't notice -- he was already typing away. When his focus finally broke for a second, he picked up the mug John had set next to him. The tea was almost cold by then, but he drank it anyway. When he finished, he read the report over and sent it through. Then he looked up. John was sitting on the sofa, looking a bit miserable as he played with his phone. Sherlock stood up and boiled another kettle, bringing two mugs in and sitting down next to John.

"How are you?" Sherlock asked a bit stupidly, before taking a sip of tea.

"Yeah, fine," John said as he took the mug from Sherlock. He picked up his phone again and continued his browsing. He knew he was being childish, but he was upset at how easily Sherlock forgot their plans. He didn't exactly mind that Sherlock had to work instead, but he hadn't even apologised or acknowledged their cancelled plans. 

Sherlock took another sip of tea. John obviously was not fine. He looked round the flat and saw the clock, realising he'd been working for three hours. "We should get going then, I suppose," he said lightly. "I'm not sure when the museum closes." He reached over and held John's hand. "Sorry about all that," he added softly.

John looked at their hands and then up at Sherlock. "We can go another day, it's fine."

Sherlock looked over. "Let's go -- even if we've only got an hour or two," he said. "Unless you don't want to, but I -- I want us to do something together still. If you want to."

John looked over at him again. "Okay," he said. 

"Should we go?" Sherlock said. "There's a little place nearby where we could get something to eat afterwards."

"Okay," John nodded. He put his mug down and got up to get his coat. He took Sherlock's hand as they walked out to get a cab, and then laced their fingers as they made their way through the museum. It was mostly empty at this time of day, and they moved through the exhibits easily. When they were done and heading for the restaurant, John leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for going with me. I'm sorry I was upset."

Sherlock put his arm around John's shoulder. "We'll just have to get used to our differences," he said. Which seemed like such a simple concept, but he genuinely hoped they both could. "Our lives aren't the same but it doesn't mean we can't figure out a way to . . . you know, be okay."

John smiled. "I'm will to work for it -- you're worth it."

"I want to be," Sherlock said, opening the door to the restaurant and following John in.

After they'd finished eating, Sherlock checked his watch. "This is either an early dinner or a quite late lunch," he said. "Have you got other plans tonight or will you . . . I mean, I know it's been nearly 24 hours, but I don't think I'm ready for last night's date to end just yet."

"I don't want it to end just yet either," he smiled. "Let's go for a walk before going back to . . . either your place or mine?"

"Whatever you'd like," Sherlock said. He paid for the food and they headed out.

John took his hand again as they walked through the streets to the park.

"John," Sherlock said without turning his head. "I can be a quite frustrating person. Many people have told me this, and quite frankly I know it to be true. I respect nothing more than logic -- it motivates my choices, even when I don't quite yet understand my logic." He paused and took in a deep breath of the cool air. "I'm not quite sure why I came into the bakery that first day, I'm not even sure precisely why I returned. But I feel like the answer is slowly revealing itself. You. You are unlike anyone else I've ever met."

John flushed lightly and squeezed his hand. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "You are also unlike anyone I've ever met. I'm lucky and I'm grateful that you came back." He leaned up and kissed him. 

Sherlock smiled. "So . . . where to now?" he asked.

"Let's go back to yours. I still have one morning I can sleep in and I would like to do that with you."

"Good," Sherlock said. He pulled on John's arm, leading them back to the flat.

John stayed close to Sherlock as they headed back to the flat. Sherlock unlocked the door and led them in. As he rounded to the staircase, Mrs Hudson opened her door. "Oh, it's you," she said to Sherlock though she was looking at John.

"It is me, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock said. "I have a . . . friend with me," he added. 

John smiled at the woman. "I understand I have you to thank for the lovely dinner the other day," he said, throwing Sherlock a teasing look. 

Mrs Hudson glanced at Sherlock as well. "Well, thank you," she said. "And I presume that I have you to thank for the delicious fruit tarts."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and started to end the conversation by continuing up the steps.

"Oh," John said surprised, glancing at Sherlock. "Well, you're welcome." He waved as he followed Sherlock upstairs. "You didn't eat the tarts?"

Sherlock moved to the kitchen as he spoke. "I was trying to be nice . . . to her, I mean," he said as he filled the kettle. He turned it on and then turned around. "And to you, if I'm honest. You know now I'm not much of an eater . . . I'm sorry. Are you cross?"

"Well, no," he decided. "It's just . . . I was making them special for you." 

"But I liked them --" Sherlock said. "Even though I didn't eat them . . . I liked them. Because they were from you." He carried the tea in. "Don't be cross," he said, sitting down close to John.

"I'm not," John smiled. "I'm not cross." He pecked Sherlock's lips and smiled wider.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Besides, Mrs Hudson is a good person to have on your side and the tarts definitely won her over."

John smiled at Sherlock. "I'm glad I won you over for real, then."

"It appears you have," Sherlock said. He took another drink and then set down his mug. "So . . . what would you like to do for the rest of the night?"

"Let's watch something on the telly," he said. "We can cuddle for a bit."

Sherlock reached around and found the remote, handing it to John. "You find something," he said.

John flipped through the channels until he found a movie playing. "Oh, I like these Bond movies," he said. He scooted close to Sherlock and leaned against him, wrapping an arm around him.

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure about the film, but he did like being close to John like this. This made his mind wander again -- if John just lived here all the time, they could be close all the time. Was that such a mad idea?

John watched the film and hoped Sherlock didn't mind it. He dozed once in a while, used to going to bed early.

Sherlock listened to John's breathing changing, but noticed that he seemed to determine to watch the film. When it was over, he stretched a little and said, "Perhaps we should have an early night?"

John looked up at him and smiled. "Okay, yeah. I was thinking of staying the night again."

"I was hoping you would," Sherlock said. He stood up and took the mugs to the sink. "I need the toilet," he said before realising he didn't really need to announce it, but now he already had. He stopped in the bedroom to grab his pajamas and then went into the bathroom.

John stood up and stretched before moving to Sherlock's room and stripping down to his pants. When he saw Sherlock he said, "I still don't have clothes, I hope you don't mind."

"I've got an extra pair," Sherlock said. "But I don't mind," he added with a smile.

"I prefer pants," he smiled, climbing into Sherlock's bed. 

Sherlock got in with him. "You know, I think I've slept more since I met you than I have in years. Wonder why that is?"

"I've been tiring you out with amazing sex?" John grinned. 

"Possibly," Sherlock said, turning toward John. "I think it's more likely because you make me eat all the time. It makes me sluggish, I think."

"Oh please! You've hardly had anything at all," John laughed. 

"Trust me," Sherlock said. "I have -- I've put on two stone since that first day." He fiddled a bit with John's hair. "Well, good night then," he added, turning away and pulling the covers up.

"Oh -- good night," John said, a bit put off. He shifted and turned on his side as well, looking at the back of Sherlock's head. 

Sherlock lay quietly for a moment. It felt quite nice having John here. "John," he said in a whisper.

"Hmm?" John murmured. 

"Did you want to take your clothes off at all?"

"Well, I'm already down to my pants," he said. 

"I know -- I meant were you thinking at some point you'd like to be nude?"

"Yes, probably, if I had a good reason to," John said casually. 

"I think you probably should," Sherlock said. "I think it's only right."

"But you're fully clothed," he said, smiling at the back of his head. 

"If it'd make you feel more comfortable, I'd be willing to take mine off as well," Sherlock said. "I don't want to be bad host."

"Oh, well yes, that's agreeable."

"Good," Sherlock said. He sat up a little and took his shirt off and then slid his pajama bottoms off. Once John was nude as well, Sherlock slid up next to him, tangling their legs, and wrapping an arm around John's back. He kissed John's mouth hard. John returned the kiss with equal fervour, arching against him and looping an arm around his neck. Sherlock pushed forward, rolling John onto his back. He shifted so his weight was on him. He dropped his head to John's neck, nipping and sucking the soft skin.

John rolled his hip up, his hardening cock rubbing against Sherlock's. He flipped them, rolling his hips harder. "I think I'll ride you," he murmured. 

Sherlock smiled, holding tight onto John's hips. "You're very sexy, John Watson," he said.

"Mmm, I think you're the sexy one," he said, reaching for the lube and condoms in Sherlock's drawer. He poured a bit onto his own hand and reached back to open himself up. At the same time, he leaned down to kiss and bite at Sherlock's neck. Sherlock reached down and began stroking John, watching every move he made over him. With his other hand, he squeezed John's thigh. John moved his fingers quickly, dipping lower to suck and bite Sherlock's nipples. 

"That feels good," Sherlock said. He dropped his head back a little, closing his eyes and letting his body melt into the bed. 

John quickly opened the condom for Sherlock. He rolled it on and kissed his mouth hard before sinking down on him, moaning into the kiss. 

"Fuck," Sherlock called against John's kiss. He pushed up off the bed. "Fuck," he said again.

John started moving on Sherlock, gazing down at him as he panted softly. Sherlock kept his hand on John steady though it was hard to focus with the pleasure that was filling his entire body. He looked up at John who was so handsome -- he wanted him to be here all the time so they could do this whenever they wanted. He let a soft moan escape from his throat as he let all the movement on the bed take over his head. John bent down again as he rolled his hips, kissing Sherlock hard. 

Sherlock moaned John's name, feeling himself close to the edge. "Stay," he exhaled as he pulled John's head down for another kiss. John moaned into the kiss. He didn't know if Sherlock meant low like this, for the night, or forever. He wanted all of it. He moved his hips down harder, a bit faster, whining as the heat built higher and higher. All the sounds in the room -- their noises, the bed moving with their bodies -- filled Sherlock's head. His breath was ragged as his eyes squeezed shut and his body jerked as his orgasm passed through him John kissed his mouth hard as he came with Sherlock, spilling over his stomach and chest. 

"Jesus, John," Sherlock said, pulling him down to kiss him. "You're incredible."

John smiled and pressed kisses to Sherlock's mouth and jaw. 

Sherlock shifted their bodies, getting rid of the condom and using his t-shirt to clean them both up. He lay back down and kissed John's arm as he snuggled in close. "I like that, I must confess," he said.

"Me too," John agreed. He took a deep breath. "What did you mean, when you said 'stay'?" 

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked. "I don't think I said anything . . . except" he made a low moan. "Is that not enough for you?" he added with a wide smile.

John smiled at him. "Let's sleep, hmm?"

"All right," Sherlock said. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of their breathing. He could feel himself getting drowsy -- he was so comfortable here with John. He wasn't sure he'd ever met someone who made him feel so comfortable. "John?" he said into the quiet of the room.

"Hmm?"   
"I--" Sherlock started but he wasn't quite sure what precisely he wanted to say. "Are you warm enough?" he asked to cover his uncertainty.

John peeked one eye open before closing it again. "Yeah. I'm really comfortable."

"Good," Sherlock said. He was quiet for a few moments. "Is your bed comfortable?" he asked.

"Um, comfortable enough," he said. "I'll admit yours is more so."

"It is good," Sherlock mumbled. "I'm very comfortable with you."

John rest his forehead between Sherlock's shoulder blades. "That's good," he mumbled.

"It is," Sherlock said as he started to drift to sleep. "It's good."

John let himself doze off pressed against Sherlock.

Sherlock woke up a few hours later, rolling over and looking at John. He wasn't sure he could remember a time when he didn't know John -- this was very silly really since it was only a week ago. Why was he thinking such unusual things? He lifted a hand and just touched John's hair lightly. He closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.


	10. Stay

When John woke up in the morning he slipped out of bed to make tea and breakfast, bringing it back to bed after finding a tray. He waved the steam towards Sherlock to wake him.

"What?" Sherlock said stupidly, sitting up quickly. "Oh," he said, slowly rubbing his face before taking a mug. "Thank you."

"I made breakfast as well, I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," Sherlock said. "Make yourself at home --" he took a quick sip of tea when he realised how much he actually meant that.

John smiled as he dug in, offering some to Sherlock as they sipped their tea quietly. Around noon, after John had done the dishes, he told Sherlock he had an errand to run, kissing him for a long moment before he actually pulled himself away from the flat. A while ago a woman had come asking for a job, but John didn't have enough work for that. In reality he still didn't, but now there was something better swaying his choices. He called her and was glad to find she was still interested. He told her she could start on Monday if she could come in for some quick training. All John would do is open up in the morning and bake the pastries, leaving the shop to her for the rest of the day. She could easily bake the prep John would leave in case something sold out. Then he would stop by and close the shop until he was sure that she could handle it.

_I won't be able to come by tonight, I've got something to do for the shop. Can you come by in the morning? -JW_

Sherlock showered while John was gone. He remade the bed and was tidying up the kitchen when John's text came through. He stared at the words and realised he felt a bit hurt. He'd wanted John to stay here forever and now he'd just gone and wouldn't be back. He set the phone down and moved to his desk, opening a drawer and getting out a cigarette to smoke. He walked to the window, looking out at the sky for a few moments. He knew it was ridiculous to pout like this -- he was an adult and besides no one was here to witness it so it really couldn't change anything. When he'd finished his smoke, he picked up his phone.

_I'll be there. SH_

_I'll miss you. -JW_

Sherlock let the words on the screen seep into his head before replying.

_I'll miss you too. SH_

He dropped the phone and moved to his desk, trying to focus on work instead of missing John. There was one query in his Inbox so he rang them directly, but apparently his services were no longer needed. He got up and decided he might as well finish tidying, but that soon became proper cleaning -- he scrubbed the sink and stovetop before moving into the bathroom and cleaning that as well. He was bent over the tub when he heard a noise in the flat. He quickly stood up and went out.

"Oh, it's you," he said disappointedly, when he saw Mrs Hudson at the door.

"Well, thanks," she replied, looking around the flat in a not-so-subtle manner.

"He's not here," Sherlock said and flopped down onto the sofa.

Mrs Hudson walked past him and in the kitchen to put the kettle on. She noticed everything had recently been cleaned, but didn't comment. She brought two mugs in and sat down across from Sherlock. She looked over at his forlorn face. "Did it not work out then?" she asked softly.

"No, it did not," he said grumpily.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No, I don't know," Sherlock said. "No . . . maybe."

"Does that mean he ended it?" she asked tentatively. 

"What?" Sherlock said. "No, of course not."

"You did?" 

"I did what?" 

"Ended it?" Mrs Hudson sighed. Talking to Sherlock about these things was much harder than it needed to be.

"No," Sherlock said. "It hasn't ended."

"But you said . . . I asked and you said it didn't work out," she asked, extremely confused at this point.

"It didn't," he said. "But I don't think it's ended."

"Well, what's the problem then?"

"I wanted him to stay but he didn't," Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

"You mean, stay as in spend the night?" Mrs Hudson asked, trying not to sound too eager for some good sexy gossip.

"No, he stayed the night," Sherlock said. "I mean, I wanted him to stay for always and he didn't. He left."

Mrs Hudson sighed again and took a long drink of tea. "And did you ask him to stay for always?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "Basically. . . yes, I mean, I thought about how I wanted him to."

"Right," she said. "But John owns a business, yes? He has a home? Don't you think that's quite fast, expecting him to give that up just for you?"

"He doesn't have to give anything up," Sherlock pouted. "Or only some of it. I don't know . . ." He took a sip of tea and turned his head to the window, staring out into the light without really looking at anything. "I just wanted him to stay. I know it's unusual, but that's the proof really -- I know what I know and I know he belongs here with me."

Mrs Hudson was quiet for a few moments as she finished her tea. Then she took her mug to the sink and headed toward the door. "If what you say is right, just be patient, love," she said with a soft smile and then left.

Sherlock was not very good at being patient.

John returned to his flat late, getting into bed and thinking about Sherlock. He kept think about that moment when Sherlock said 'stay'. He let that carry him into sleep. 

In the morning he was up early to open the shop and welcome his new employee.

Sherlock didn't sleep much. In fact he didn't sleep at all. He lost himself in his mind for a while and then got up and took a bath at 3am but that wasn't enough of a distraction. He was thinking about John and feeling hurt and remembering and feeling nice and then looking at his empty bed and feeling sad again. He'd started twenty messages to John, but sent none of them. He finally thought he could sleep, just a morning was starting. He dragged himself from bed and took a shower to try to pull himself together to go to the bakery.

He smoked a cigarette on the way over. He pulled open the door and saw John fussing at the front. But he also saw a woman there. Who was she? Why was she here?

He moved over to John and grabbed his arm. "John?" he asked.

John looked up at Sherlock and shook his arm free. "What's wrong? You look worried."

"What's going on, John?" Sherlock said. "I'm confused."

"That's Jane, my new employee." He smiled lightly. "After I bake the pastries and open, I'll be free for the day. You know . . . should someone get murdered or whatnot." He smiled wider.

"But I thought --" Sherlock paused for a second. "We can spend the day together?"

John nodded. "I hired someone so I don't have to be here all the time," he smiled.

"Because . . . because of me?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "I want to . . . stay -- as much as I can."

Sherlock stepped closer. "I want you to . . . stay," he said, lifting his hand to hold John's.

"I want to, Sherlock." John laced their fingers and smiled up at him.

"But --" Sherlock said. "I don't want you to give up your life . . . I do, but I know you shouldn't."

"I'm still baking. Opening the shop. Living here," he said. "You're in my life too now."

"But will you stay at mine too?" Sherlock said. "A few nights a week?"

"I will," John smiled. And maybe move in soon, but there would be time for that.

"Six nights a week?"

John grinned. "Six nights a week," he agreed. "Tonight."

"Good," Sherlock said, smiling widely. "When are you coming over?"

"As soon as the display is set up for Jane, I can come by. Maybe an hour?"

"I can wait -- I need a cup of tea anyway," Sherlock said. "Perhaps I could watch you bending over a little? That'd be a nice way to spend an hour," he added cheekily.

John grinned. "Look away," he said as we went back to work.

Sherlock grabbed a seat and watched John. He felt happy. It was unusual but good.

John finished his baking after making Sherlock a mug of tea, showing off his arse as much as he could and laughing with Sherlock. Sherlock's head was still spinning a bit by the things John had said, especially since his brain was so tired and he was eager to get back to the flat. He enjoyed himself but the hour did seem long.

"Ready to go?" John finally asked.

"Yes," Sherlock stood up quickly. 

John made sure Jane had his number before leading Sherlock out, glancing at the shop. It was odd. He'd never done this before.

Sherlock grabbed John's hand. "Thank you for doing this," he said. "I know your work is important to you -- if things change, just let me know, okay?"

John looked away from the shop and nodded. 

Sherlock smiled and they headed back to the flat. As he unlocked the door, Sherlock said, "We're going straight to bed, you know."

John grinned. "Are we now?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "I got about five minutes sleep and I am exhausted." He went straight through the flat to his room. "Hurry up," he said as he started to strip himself of his clothes.

John removed his own clothes to his pants and climbed into Sherlock's bed.

Sherlock slid in next to him, pressing close. "I like when you're here," he said softly. "I know we've only known each other a short time, but trust me, I know something is different about this and I want you here with me to find out just what it is. Now stop talking and do something sweet while I go to sleep."

"I already did something sweet for you by hiring Jane," John pouted. "You do something sweet now."

Sherlock curled his sleepy body around John. "Stay," he said softly and held him close as he drifted off to sleep


End file.
